


A Dark and Quiet Sea

by Archaeopteryx



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Cock Warming, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sensory Deprivation, Service Top, Top Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, muffing, the absolute softest and most tender kink scene in history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archaeopteryx/pseuds/Archaeopteryx
Summary: His ears are stopped with wool and wax, but hefeelsDimitri speak against the soft spot beneath his jaw.I have you, love. You're safe.Dedue's life offers few opportunities for rest and respite.Dimitri provides.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	A Dark and Quiet Sea

His ears are stopped with wool and wax, but he _feels_ Dimitri speak against the soft spot beneath his jaw.

_I have you, love. You're safe._

Trembling, desperately careful, Dimitri's hands work up the buttons of his blouse and smooth it from his shoulders. They pause to cup his chin, to caress his cheeks; then slip free the ribbon that binds back his hair. Loose, it spills down his bared shoulders. A prickling shiver shoots up his spine.

The world is dark, and still, and silent. Dedue sees nothing past the dense scarf bound over his eyes, hears nothing but the rush of his own breath. The thunder of his own heart echoes in his blood. If there were danger — a bow drawn at his back, a blade beneath his chin —

If anything, anything at all mattered beyond the interlocking circle of their arms, Dimitri's dense weight in his lap, then _Dimitri would protect him._

He hugs Dimitri close, buries his face in Dimitri’s chest; sinks into the hot, steady drum of Dimitri’s heart, felt through blood and bone. Dimitri holds him through the shivers and sniffles that follow, kneads gentle circles between his shoulders. His palm slides down the line of Dedue's back, then up again. _Shh_ , his breath whispers through Dedue’s hair. _Shh. You’re safe._

Tears fade into blessed, ringing peace. His heart quiets, adrift on a still, black sea.

Dedue sniffs a final time, finds Dimitri’s cheek with one hand, and rests their foreheads together. _I love you_ , he mouths, unwilling, _unable_ to break this silent shelter.

Dimitri's breath whispers across his lips. _I know._ His fingers, cooler, thinner, scarred and twisted, twine with Dedue’s, broader and blunter, though no less battered. He squeezes.

Dedue squeezes back.

Dimitri kisses him, open-mouthed, soft and sweet. Dedue kisses him back, and thinks of nothing but the warm, wet brush of tongues, the mingling of their breath, until Dimitri winds his arms around Dedue's waist, leans forward, and lays him ever so gently down in their nest of furs and pillows. 

His breath catches. Dimitri catches him, pressing his hands back against the pillows — still, Dedue's gut lurches at the loss of balance, the exposure of his belly, the glut of touch and texture against skin so rarely bared. Sleek sable and dense, lush lynx rub up against his back and shoulders, guard hairs prickling where his weight rests against the grain. Eiderdown pillows cased in Adrestian silks cushion his head and neck; a band of coarser fox presses against his ribs, the leather edges of the hide supple-soft. Ever patient, Dimitri stretches out against his side while he adjusts: warm and bony, his weight a simple, grounding counterpoint to cacophonous luxury.

When Dedue's skin feels like skin rather than smoke, he nods. Dimitri shifts on top of him, pinning him beneath dense muscle as they sink into the enveloping embrace of the furs. His kisses trail down Dedue's neck, his collarbones, his chest, with a thoroughness of attention that has Dedue sighing and rolling his shoulders against the lynx. Dimitri's lips move against his skin, murmuring endearments Dedue cannot hear.

He doesn't need to. _My love, my hearth, my guiding star; beloved, beautiful, cherished beyond measure_ : the words themselves don't matter, only that Dimitri speaks them. That Dedue is precious, protected, kept and cared for. He's given up sight and sound for the evening, surrendered himself to Dimitri's care … but Dedue is the one who _receives_ that care, upon whom Dimitri lavishes such complete and tender focus.

With the same unrelenting thoroughness, Dimitri proceeds down Dedue's belly, teeth rolling sharp over the point of his hip. Dedue's breaths catch on a whine at the bottom of his lungs, rushing in his ears and drowning out any sound that might have slipped past the wool and wax. His hands curl on Dimitri's shoulders — his nails scrape across skin, across the ridges of old scars, and Dimitri gasps against the curve of his belly. He fumbles Dedue's trousers past his waist; Dedue arches his back and lifts his hips, and then they're gone, vanished into the meaningless void beyond his skin.

Dimitri nestles between his thighs, mouthing sweet bruises into unweathered skin — kisses the side of Dedue’s cock, runs the tip of his tongue up the shaft, nuzzles at the base, and hums his satisfaction when a voiced whimper breaks from Dedue’s chest. His hands disappear for a clumsy moment, his shoulder braced awkwardly atop Dedue’s thigh, but they return soon enough, slick with oil and massaging careful circles around his entrance before slipping inside to open him. Impatience isn’t normally among Dedue’s vices, but Dimitri can’t enter him soon enough — rarely and shamelessly, he _wants_ , with nothing to think of or feel but his body and its desires. When Dimitri presses inside him, joining their bodies the way they belong, Dedue tips his head back and _moans_ , half from the pleasure and half for the shudder his voice sends through his husband. 

Even then, trembling with the effort of restraint, Dimitri rocks his hips carefully, sliding fractionally deeper with each painstaking stroke no matter how Dedue squirms and pants and arches towards him. Finally, though, _finally_ , his base sits flush with Dedue's entrance, and Dedue is warm and open and so, so blessedly full.

He waits, expectant, for Dimitri to move.

Dimitri does not.

Dedue's brow furrows. A worm of worry gnaws at his ribs.

A sharp spark shoots up his wrist, but it's only Dimitri, twining their fingers to raise Dedue's knuckles to his lips. He kisses each one in turn, then repeats the process with Dedue's other hand. Leaning forward shifts his cock inside — Dedue whimpers, scrabbles with his calves to clutch his husband closer. He wants, he _wants_ —

Dimitri presses his hands to the pillows above his head, then squeezes. The request is clear enough, and Dedue lets them rest there, clutching at the silk pillow for an anchor.

Nerves prickle down his back.

What must he look like? Spread out on their bed of furs, naked, blinded, and deafened, his neck and belly bared to open air? Split open on his husband's cock, his own hard and hot on his belly, flushed and panting to be fucked — what does Dimitri see? What does he think? What expression does he wear?

Dimitri's hands trail down his wrists, then cradle his face, thumbs light on his cheekbones, fingertips brushing the shaven hair behind his ears. He shudders, belly hitching where it joins Dedue's. A drop spatters onto Dedue's chest. They both startle, and Dimitri wipes his tear away with a careful hand. Dedue's throat knots; his own eyes sting beneath the blindfold. What is he to do, knowing that he's made a man, his husband, weep for love of him? Where can he keep this feeling, stow it safe and secret, a private treasure saved for stolen, solitary moments?

He sinks back into their furs, breathing fast and deep through his nose, clinging to composure by his fingernails. Dimitri’s hands wander across his waist, his thighs, pausing to trace every scar and stretch-mark. He kneads at Dedue's chest, massaging gentle circles around his nipples. Heat seeps through his chest, and he groans, squirming, desperate.

A hand cups Dedue's balls. The backs of Dimitri's knuckles stroke so damnedly lightly up his cock. A dam cracks in Dedue's chest — he bucks, whines, "Dimitri, _please —_ "

Dimitri squeezes his hip. A finger presses on either side of Dedue's cock, just above his balls, searching — then slides into the narrow, hidden tunnels he finds, thrusting gingerly as he rocks his hips. Lightning shudders up through Dedue's belly, white-hot and bone-deep. Head thrown back, he cries out, high, ragged and rough, whimpering as he rocks down against his husband's hand and cock. Lynx and sable shift beneath his shoulders as he arches his back, clutching at the pillow above his head.

Then — Dimitri withdraws, almost completely, then snaps back into him. White flashes behind Dedue's eyes. All the breath rushes out of him. Dimitri sets a deep and pounding pace, fingers and cock thrusting in counterpoint rhythm, and then his free hand curls around Dedue's cock and it's — he's — there is _too much,_ around and inside him, piercing, thawing his deepest, coldest reaches. He hears nothing besides his own gasping breaths, and moans of pleasure, and his mother tongue spilling past the broken dam Dimitri has made of his lips, cursing and crying _more_ and _please_ and _Dimitri, I need, I_ need — 

As ever, Dimitri gives him all he asks and more.

Heat roars through his belly, in his ears. He breaks on a shuddering sob and a long, frantic cry, straining skyward. Come spills over his husband's fist and his own belly. Dazed, limp, quivering, he rides Dimitri until he, too, comes, crumpling forward to catch himself with a hand on Dedue's sternum.

Echoes roll through him, ripples on a smooth sea. Quiet, but for his own panting, the drum of his heart against his skin. Dimitri's palm rests heavy on his chest. Their nest of furs enfolds him, and he enfolds his husband, and there has never been and will never be anything but this dark and perfect moment.

He just — wants to keep this, while he can. While the peak lasts. To stay joined, belonging, fit together as though they were made to. To feel held, and wanted, and _safe_.

As always, it slips like smoke from his grasp, leaving a terrible emptiness in its wake.

Dimitri withdraws, and cleans up the worst of their mess with a warm, wet cloth. Dedue pushes the blindfold from his eyes, blinking as they readjust to the low candlelight. He peels the wax from his ears, drops the plugs onto the floor with a floppy, trembling hand. Settling back into the world, the first thing he hears is Dimitri mumbling ‘ _love you, I love you, I love you, I love_ ’ as he crawls up to lie on top of Dedue, chin tucked neatly into the curve of his shoulder. Dedue laces his fingers over Dimitri’s back.

Salt floods his throat, and he drowns.

Dimitri remains, his hot and heavy weight an anchor, a lifeline. Inch by inch, hand over hand, Dedue drags himself back to the surface.

When he can breathe again, he takes Dimitri's face in both hands, threads his fingers into Dimitri's hair, and kisses him, lips still wet with the salt of his own tears. Dimitri kisses him back until they have to part for air, foreheads pressed together; rubs his upper arm until he drifts into a warm, muffled doze. Dimly, he registers Dimitri slipping from his arms; Dimitri catches his hand and kisses his knuckles.

"I'll be right back. I promise."

Not once has Dimitri broken a promise to him. Dedue wraps his arms around his ribs, tucked close in their nest of furs, and shuts his eyes.

Drowsily, he rises when Dimitri nudges his shoulder, propping him up against the pillows and pressing a mug of tea to his lips. His hands tremble, but hot vapor and sharp ginger clear his head. He's left feeling considerably more solid, though he dozes against Dimitri’s shoulder between sips, and he blinks to realize that Dimitri’s saved the empty mug from his slackening fingers. Dimitri kisses his temple and settles in beside him, skin to skin. “Sleep now, starlight. I love you.”

Dedue hugs him close, burying his nose in Dimitri's shoulder. "I know."

And he does, with a certainty nestled deep and safe in his soul. He loves, and is loved, and the shelter of that hearth can never be taken.


End file.
